Once Upon a Day
by redhouseclan
Summary: Modern AUs with Thorin and Aria. As well as the whole gang! The in-betweens of fic updates.
1. Chapter 1

_**So I've decided to make a Modern AU one-shot of Aria and Thorin whilst I wait in the parking lot. I have a whole bunch of crap to do so Time to Shine will most likely be updated by Monday next. Lots of love; please leave a review if you enjoyed it!**_

A Page a Day

x That very afternoon x

"You _have _to come with me! It's just for one night, you're not busy tomorrow, I'll even pay your entrance fee too!"

"Sean, it's free, ladies night, remember? So let's be serious just for a second, alright?" You could practically feel his green eyes widening in his hyped up state.

"How do you EVEN know that? You barely leave that hovel of literature and oak." He is teasing, this _hovel_ has been in your mother's family since the dawn of time, "Do you not know how popular club Draki is? The owner Terry Smaug is going to host the party of the year tomorrow night! There are going to be so many hot…um…intelligent and classy females there, please say yes?"

You huff, blowing your overgrown fringe out of her eyes. _Honestly, this guy_. Moving your mobile to the other ear, you begin wiping down the last of the oak shelves. Who knew that owning a bookstore would make one addicted to furniture polishing? Or chunky knit sweaters for that matter? That Ori Risona was one heck of a sustainable designer, who else would have been able to get that kind of comfort out of silk/recycled plastic fiber knitwear?

"Ria? Ria? Are you still there? If you don't respond in 0.6 seconds then I will take that as a 'yes', unconsciousness is a form of consent, ya know?" Sean hollered from the tiny speaker bringing you out of the impromptu reverie resulting in the mad juggle of mobile, rag and can of polish, eventually taking their places to scatter across the floor and land under the counter. "Shit balls!"

"Ria, are you okay? Do I need to send you a Life Alert or something? That bookshelf ladder is freakin ancient, I've always told you it would cave one day. Are you still alive? Blink once for yes and twice for no. Did you blink?" Letting him rant whilst you try to reach his mellow baritone voice coming from under the register counter, the bells chime for a customer, whose heavy footsteps echo across the small store. "Welcome! Just…can you hold on for a second, I'll be with you in a...ahh…a jiffy. Feel free to browse if you'd like, a new shipment came in if you'd want to look," pointing with your unoccupied hand towards the general area of the door. Your muffled voice then turns into a triumphant "AHAH!" accompanied by a small happy dance equivalent to what Sean calls a 'cat on crack' dance.

A deep rumble, resembling a chuckle of amusement, makes its way over to a certain someone's ears freezing you in place, slowly looking up you find you are staring into a pair of intense blue eyes in the mirror above the register. You let out a weak chuckle, but before you could even turn around and blush in embarrassment the door chimed once more.

A voice more suited to baby talking to a small dog rather than a grown man piped up, "Ohh! Babykins, _this _is where Dis-sah," the pronunciation is butchered, with flailing hands she is pointing out a worn-in brown leather armchair settled amongst a persian tapestry and stacks of free bookmarkers for the kiddos who visit, "said to pick up her…_books_?"

_That chair is softer than butter and stuffed more than your boobs thank you very much_ you want to retort, instead you speak quickly to Sean, "I'll call you back, but count me in, Draki on Ered Luin and Fornost, right? See you then!" Hanging up, you turn to the couple, you were not expecting such blue eyes to be framed by such dark, luscious hair only to be attached to such a majestic profile in a broad, virile body. And the lips! Oh lordy! This man could stop traffic! The woman clinging to his arm is beautiful in that platinum blonde, big boobs, and size zero look, you bet she is nice when she's not trying too hard and when she eats something heartier. The woman glares daggers at you. Hmm, maybe not. He slightly moves away from her with a cringe.

Pasting on a smile, you greet them with a soft "Hello, what's can I do for you?" You feel his eyes taking you in from head to toe. Tugging on your emerald green sweater to hide the oil stains in your jeans from the last time you tuned up your bike, you brush back your messy black locks behind your ears. No matter what style you put it up in it has a mind of its own. Then you panic when you remember your scar, which spreads from your eyebrow to your cheek, it still lingers from the time you were 5 years old and you climbed the bookshelf ladder and fell. The man, in his sharp leather jacket and jeans decides to step closer, with a small crinkle of his eyes he looks right into your brown eyes, "I'm here to pick up an order. By the name of Disa Durinson?" The voice is velvet, deep, and soothing. With a shiver, you nod, almost breaking you neck and immediately scurry to the back mailroom where all packages arrive from the book distributors. Finding a rather large package, and heft it onto the dolly. With a huff of satisfaction in getting the monster on the dolly, you wheel it out. He is on bent knees looking at the sword collection you have inside the glass paned counter display, you admit that you have odd hobbies, and he has a nice bum.

You are always on the lookout for more to add, so when he states non-chalantly that he has "an antique single-edged blade named Orcrist, it has a large tooth pommel, some say it's a dragon tooth" you immediately fall in love with him. You give him a huge smile, which he returns and you both talk swords and smithing techniques for a few minutes until you hear,

"Hey book girl, do you have Vogue or Cosmo here? I'd like to see the new... _tips_," the woman says with a smirk, making eyes at Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. Feeling somewhat awkward you clear your throat and shift your eyes from her mooning clock to his stern face, seeing red spots burning above his impressive stubble. "Umm, no sorry. But I have some Ovidia Yu and Ruth Rosen if you'd like." Poor thing looks so confused, she looks at you like you have grown another head, looking up to Mr. TDH you see the corners of his mouth turn up, apparently 2 out of the 3 of you know what's up. Your gaze travels back to Miss Cosmo when she lets out a screech to rival ring wraiths when Mr. TDH says firmly, eyes blazing, "Victoria, can you wait in the car? I'd like to finish up here before the store closes." It is almost 3, you close at 4. _Victoria_, apparently, hears the silent command, and stalks off in her 5-inch stilettos leaving scratches in the wood floor, with a final slam of the door she disappears around the corner. He offers an apologetic smile.

"Umm… do you by chance have a rather large boot? I don't think this beast can be carried." Seeing the astonished look on his face at the sheer size of it when he finally glances at it, he nods. Good.

You shake your head, "Okay. Hmm. Well it was very nice to meet you!" Before he turns you quickly utter, "Can you sign this before you go, Mr..." While waiting for him to answer you quickly go around the counter and take out the receipt ledger, all of the order forms and receipts are already in the package, but you like to keep record of how many people order, for statistics purpose only. Not to keep him in your store any longer than necessary. Strictly business.

"Durinson. Thorin Durinson. _Mrs_…" he questions with a small knowing smirk while he signs the ledger. "It's _Ms. Edgewater_. Aria Edgewater." You reply with a blush, scuffing the floor with worn out boots. You see a large tanned hand with long, strong fingers sliding the book back to you. On the slip you see his name and number written in solid curves and flowing lines. Faster than lightening you look up and see a hopeful expression on his face, the stern look from earlier is gone and you see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Then you remember Victoria, as vain and vapid as she is, the Girl Code has to be honored. Can a man this majestic really be so…so arrogant in thinking that just because he has a handsome mug he can pull any girl? _Like you father? _you think. With darkening eyes you ask him, "And what about Victoria?" He looks confused and with a loud guffaw that surprises you he begins to laugh so hard he has to support himself on the counter…was that a _giggle?_

You don't appreciate being laughed at, at all. "And what is so funny, Mr. Durinson?" you huff in irritation, your cheeks turn peachy, your bronze skin does not allow it to be brighter than necessary. He calms at that, a small smile spreads on his face and he runs a hand through his hair. _Can I be that hand? _"What is so funny, is that you think that I would be a relationship with Bridezilla over there." He says with a chuckle. "What? Bridezilla? But she was all over you!" you exclaim in frustration. You really think you should go out more if you can't distinguish peacocking signals of the sexes.

"Well, apparently, my sister, Disa, is indisposed as the head bridesmaid with the flu. Her 8 and 12 year old boys, Fillian and Killian, brought home a bug, so I was commanded to step in for the day. Not what I was looking forward to but I get a dinner out of it with a beautiful woman," before you can utter a smart retort he interjects swiftly, "if you're willing, of course." he says a bit sheepishly at admitting he's practically an emergency bridesmaid. He is absolutely adorable. Not a single thought goes through your brain when your hands grab his jacket and pull him to you lips. He is surprised, but when you feel his lips move in a smile, you sigh at the feel of the kiss deepening. After a few minutes you break apart dazed, he blinks his eyes, fluttering his thick inky lashes.

You lick your lips, he stares. "Well, Thorin," he perks up at his name, "I think that it would be…great. I'm off at 4." You had him your store card, you hastily wrote you number on the back. He gives you a wide white toothed smile that rivals the sun and all you can think of is that the owner of a 'hovel of literature and oak' has a hot date. Picking up the monster of a package like nothing he smiles again, moving closer, "We're definitely not going to dinner, we are going to the circus that just arrived."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, a girl who kisses like that needs cotton candy and prizes. Preferably won by me," he says with a gaze at your lips, "especially a girl who rides a motorbike." Thorin's eyes slide to your helmet and jacket behind the counter. His deep baritone whisper makes your bones turn into mush. You lean in and whisper, "and then are you going to show me your sword?" His eyes widen and he laughs throatily, his cereulean eyes are full of promises, "only if you're a good girl." You plan on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Modern Supermarket AU * ****cue windchimes**** * just a quick ficlet about a lettuce enthusiast and a meat eating devote. Enjoy and leave a ****dwarf****…I mean a review! Toodlepip!**

**A.N. I may or may not have written this to N'Sync's Bye Bye Bye. * hangs head * IDK why. But I redeemed myself with Sam Smith and Sublime and lost it with Robin Thicke. Thank the blessed Misha.**

Plants vs You

The Bee Gees "Stayin Alive" sing you out of your comatose state of rage. You've got a text. Sean: _How was your date with Mr. one pump chump? _Good God. You should have never told Sean that that's what he looked like, besides you are practically fit for the nunnery with all your celibacy, you should get a medal. _Don't forget Aria, I have someone you need to meet, I'll text you the details latr. _Another one? _ No bueno, unfortunately he ran into my fist, am dying now. Fine, but this is the last one._ 'ah ha ha—' _You won't regret it, toodles!xox_

Honestly last night you thought that James, your third date fedora tipper, was kidding when he told you that Lolthlorien was "a way better designer than Gucci or the Gap", _the Gap?seriously? In the name of Dame Judi Dench!, _when you asked him 'if he would rather live in Mordor or Lolthlorien?'

James met all of your requirements: financially secure (you abhor freeloaders, after all you own a successful florists shop, you are _not_ sugarmomma material), all his teeth, humor (if a bit dull), and he was at least a 4.5 on the luscious mane scale, except the sexist/ misogynistic asshole term that went unrequired. Though seriously, you cannot under any circumstances commit to a relationship if one of the two parties involved is a complete waffle in terms of Tolkien's work (Dateline and 60 Minutes do not count as entertainment, ever) or gender equality.

The comment 'does the carpet match the drapes?' may have been the tipping point. Usually you would have brushed off his creepy advances with a witty retort and a well-placed glare, just not then. His expression was one of smug satisfaction, James was one who never heard the word 'no', so you politely saw red and broke his nose after which you scoffed sarcastically, "_of course _my '_carpet'_ has fucking_ bright red highlights_ you bag of dicks!" You are a brunette with red highlights, it's amazing considering that they were supposed to be blue. This was the night you swore off men in the lieu that the were all jerks after you arrived home and kicked off your heels in search of your hidden vodka, gifted to you from Sean whose latest boyfriend is a smoking hot Russian herbalist named Dimitri.

You crawl out of your 'too big for you and 3 other people' sized bed to drag your hungover self to the refrigerator, which you immediately see is desolate, so is the sad excuse for a medicine cabinet. Excluding the now fermenting milk, or is it yogurt now? You munch on a hidden packet of ketchup, you hate ketchup. You nix the idea to call Dimitri for his 'special drink' which you suspect is actually Pepto mixed with a little hair of the dog and a hint of weed. A herbalist alright. Seeing as it is already close to 5 in the evening on a Sunday you decide to quickly wash and dress snagging your keys and wallet on the way out. Whole Foods it is.

You arrive approximately 15 minutes later running into the glass sliding door. An accident of course the bastard only had a 2 second open door policy. Rubbing your nose you grab a basket and ignore the group of twittering vegan teens discussing the nutritional value of clay. _Holy Crowley._ With a shake of your head you head straight for the teas, actual whole leaves! Tossing in a few boxes of Earl Grey and Chai you head for the produce section. Dimitri did say once that greens are the essence of life and should be worshipped by the body, you are pretty sure he's talking about a whole nother kind of greens but as they say 'potatoe potahto poh-ta-toes precious!' to your left you see an extremely tall and tan member of the male species examining the lettuce and cabbages, he then choose one, you can see that it is a bit wilty, with a shrug and a quick glance at a shopping list. He is maneuvering a _cart_, noo he's taken! No single guy shops with a cart! _Wait!? You hate men now, they are jerks! _I don't hate them!_ Yes you do! You have a whole empty bottle of vodka to prove it!_ True but.. I am officially insane…I am arguing with myself…I have gone mad…driven bonkers by men…_that's all folks! _You groan and smack your hands to your face. 'Ahem," rasps a voice somewhere above your pounding head.

You peek through your fingers and see Tall and Tan's chest in front of you. Oh joy, a witness to your downfall, lovely. "Sorry, you're blocking the zucchinis," you turn seeing that you definitely are, holy crap…you have died and gone to Arda. A rough, velvety British accent just spoke, you are sure that the heavens must have opened. The only British accent you heard was Cockney, one of Sean's earlier European beaus, which he swore was the equivalent of America's hillbilly accent. This one is Northern, you admit you have a total voice kink. "Oh, my bad! I was just…um…thinking…of stuff?" you offer lamely in hopes he will get his squashes and scram, his scent, sight, and sound are sending you into sensory overload, oh poop. He grins, "I can tell, don't hurt yourself, love, I'm not sure the gluten free aspirin will work," the cheek on this one!

You huff, "I'm not so sure organic clam juice goes into the zucchini and meatless bacon casserole either!" You may not know any great comebacks but you do know your recipes! With a frown he looks at his list and his cart and back at his list again. His arm flexes on the cart handle, oh lordy, you see a quick glimpse at a tattoo on lush smooth skin. Where are the produce sprinklers when you need them?

"Hmm…Erm...are you sure?" he reaches into his vest to pull out your kryptonite, freaking Tall and Tan wears GLASSES! Hiding your hyperventilating you decide to look down at your meager basket of tea, organic dark chocolate and green apples and romaine lettuce (you're sort of healthy) when a soft throaty chuckle brings you back to reality. "Ha! I guess you are right," he squints at the list and you see crinkles in the corners of his hypnotic blue eyes, you are a total sucker for crows feet, you think they make him look distinguished, with a sigh he admits, "My sister ordered me to fetch dinner for tomorrow and I admit that if left in my hands it will bring about the apocalypse, especially since her handwriting is barely legible," he jokes, he takes a deep breath and with the most adorable, for a grown man of 6'4, pout he sticks out his hand, "I'm Thorin, and I desperately need your help."

"Hmm, ok, yeah?" you nod without thinking, letting your mouth run away, while you stare at him with an imitation of an open mouth emoticon. He smiles warmly at you and takes your basket putting it in his cart. And all you can think of is if you put on deodorant and immediately the action of tugging on a ratty, thread bare Apocalyptica t-shirt flashed before your eyes. You cringe and feel a warm hand touch your shoulder, "Are you okay?" he questions with a concerned look in his eyes. Your gaze falls to his chiseled nose and see his stubble-almost-beard. Oh crap. Really? The only time I meet a gorgeous guy is when I am hungover and practically impersonating a Ood. "What? Oh yeah I'm fine! I was just thinking about your clam flavored recipe, tres bueno." You say whilst leaning back and knocking over a pile of oranges, Aria thoust middle name is Clumsy. Feeling a heat take over your face you scramble to pick them up stuffing them in your makeshift shirt-apron, with a guffaw that makes you blush even more Thorin starts to help you until one of the store employees tell you they can handle it.

Now you let out a groan of embarrassment and say a quick 'thanks' before you power walk to the meat freezer, with Thorin chuckling behind you. "Are you always this entertaining, Miss?" he wonders out loud. He is now starting to enjoy this impromptu shopping trip, a traditional meat and veg man who wouldn't be caught dead in a Whole Foods now wishes he should have been before. "Aria." You toss the lean bacon into his cart.

You walk around aisles tossing some more ingredients into his cart, feeling his gaze on your back. You both talk a bit about the recipe, do's and don'ts, and funnily enough hobbies and such. He has a Masters in Medieval History and Architecture and he collects antique weapons, whereas you have a M.A. in Cyber Security and Computer Information Systems and you collect teaspoons. You also have lots in common, especially a love for Tolkien and music. It is now 8:45 P.M. you have both been talking for the better part of 3 and a half hours.

With a wry smirk he looks pointedly at your shirt and says, "Nice shirt, they have great material, do you play?"

"Yes, they are great, right? I try to play, I bought a violin and I _cannot_ do them justice. How about you, do you play?" Bemoaning your mediocrity you add a box of honey sticks to your basket, when you see his question gaze on them. "They're honey sticks, lavender flavored, my favorite. As delicious as they are you have to either suck hard or squeeze it, I swear the plastic is industrial strength," you joke. He's not laughing. He is looking at you like prey, a lion and clumsy zebra prey-predator look. No one blinks, "I have a cello, haven't played in a while but I assure you I am very…_competent_…in handling a two handed instrument," he replies with a low growl. Oh crap you both just made innuendos, one on accident and the other on purpose.

With a gulp, you cowardly turn away, practically hearing his lopsided smirk, "Ah. Hmm. Ah, we sh-should go pay now, um, we're all set," you mumble, he brushes a wayward lock of hair behind his ear, it is a 20 on the luscious mane scale. Thorin meets _Every. Single. One_. Of you requirements and hell, even ones you never knew you wanted! He grabs your basket, looking over your items with a raise of his brows and he motions you to go ahead of him, he puts your basket on the convey belt. There is a long line. "Aria?" he hums behind you, you hum back browsing the all-natural sweets, "would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I'm sure we could go shopping again, how does a greasy pizza with _real_ chemically enhanced meat sound?"

You splutter swiftly turning around, "Wha-? Oh yeah, sure!" you squeak, "I mean yeah okay, that'd be great," your attempt to accept non-chalantly just makes him chuckle. He admits that he's laughed more times in these few hours than he has in a month, this admission makes you give him a beaming smile that he returns. "You are an odd bird, chatty, beautiful and hilarious, I like it, quite a lot actually," he murmurs into your hair, apparently he may be as big as a tank but silent as a kitten, thank Gods you showered! You look into his warm eyes and think he may just as well have been made for you, he leans in and gently brushes a red strand of hair behind you ears. "I think I'd like to try one of your honey sticks later, much later," he purrs.

"I think I should show you how a pro does it, don't you agree?" you flutter your lashes innocently at him, with surprised eyes his quiet laughter turns to a soft whisper, "Minx," with just enough promise that you do not regret going on this blind date, the supermarket, who knew?


End file.
